


A Very Sherlock Christmas

by S_G_M



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Cute, Fluff, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:45:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_G_M/pseuds/S_G_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title rather sums it all up, I think...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Sherlock Christmas

It was a cold afternoon in December, and the snow was beginning to languidly drift from the heavens down to gather upon the ground in a thick, fluffy layer.

It hadn’t been easy for John to convince Sherlock to simply take a few days and at least try not to think about any sort of real work, to simply enjoy one another and the Christmas season.

It had been quite a lovely day so far.

They’d taken a walk in the snow, had a delicious luncheon at Angelo’s and had taken in a film at the cinema. (Which Sherlock had frequently interrupted with announcements of flaws in the plot, much to poor John’s chagrin)

And now, they were doing a bit of holiday shopping.

John liked to take his time in choosing gifts, to put as much thought as possible into the process.

Sherlock found this rather frustrating. It took far too long and was dull.

“For goodness sake, John, she’ll like that just fine.” Sherlock stated in annoyance, as John looked over a small porcelain angel. “Molly holds the sentiment dearer than any actual gift. She would be just as happy with quite nearly anything.”

John gave a bit of a sigh.

“Yes, well, she’s a good friend and she’s done a lot for us in the past. She deserves something really special.” John replied, refusing to let Sherlock spoil his cheery mood.

Sherlock silently agreed, as John carefully put the angel into the basket and headed down the aisle.

“When are you going to gift shop, anyway?” John asked. “Now would be a perfect opportunity, you know.”

There was only a matter of days before Christmas now, and the crowds in the shops were getting absolutely mad.

Sherlock perused a shelf of decorative gingerbread houses.

“I’ve been long done with that.” Sherlock answered matter-of-factly. “Perhaps next year, you ought to do your shopping earlier and avoid the crowds.”

John had been a little surprised to hear that Sherlock was done already.

“Well, how early did you do yours, since we’re on the topic?” John inquired curiously.

“In January.” Sherlock replied, frowning at a rather hideous decoration. “It’s far more cost efficient and there are less crowds to deal with if one chooses to take advantage of the after holiday sales.”

John blinked.

He’d never considered that before.

After all, Christmas shopping was to be done around Christmas, wasn’t it?

Sherlock looked over to John, a smug look on his face.

“I found something that I trust you will especially delight in.” Sherlock intoned mysteriously, with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

John tried to imagine what that special something might just be, as he walked over to Sherlock, and strained on his tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

It was at this point, however, that a small group of nuns had decided to glance down that particular aisle.

Sherlock noted their shocked gasps and stares, and decided to give them something to really be offended by.

He leant down and locked his lips to John’s, taking his time and enjoying both the kiss and the response from the gawkers.

After Sherlock had stood back up, John gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle as his face glowed bright pink.

He cleared his throat, before looking behind them at the nuns who were now praying on the spot, blocking the path of some irritated customers, and gave an apologetic sort of shrug.

“You’re right, after all, John.” Sherlock told him in amusement.

John’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as he picked up the shopping basket.

“Am I?” He asked, wondering what he was apparently correct about.

“This is actually a little bit fun.” Sherlock admitted.

John laughed.

“You’re just saying that because you horrified some nuns.” John said with a slight shake of his head.

Sherlock half-smiled.

“That was good, but no.” Sherlock replied honestly. “I’m glad that I allowed you to talk me into this. You’ve made this all worthwhile, with your passion and excitement for the holiday. It’s quite nearly contagious.”

John felt touched.

“Thank you, Sherlock. That means a lot.” He said, content that Sherlock seemed to finally be getting into the holiday spirit.

“I know.” Sherlock said, putting an arm about John’s shoulders. “And, you’re welcome.”

 

 

It had taken nearly two and a half hours, but John had found the perfect gifts for everyone.

An ornate pocket watch for Lestrade, a striking porcelain angel for Molly, a big wicker basket full of treats and goodies that Mrs. Hudson adored but would not purchase for herself on account of the price.

He’d found something nice for all of his friends.

As they sat at home, relishing a cup of peppermint tea, John brought up the subject of the Christmas tree and decorating the flat in general.

“It’s only four more days, Sherlock, and you can’t even tell from in here.” John complained, beginning to speak about what could go where.

Sherlock wanted to explain how pointless it was to put up so many decorations when it would all have to come down right away anyhow.

A few bits and bobs here and there were acceptable, but John was always so keen on making the place look like Christmas had literally exploded on Baker Street.

However, he held his tongue, because he knew just how much joy it brought John to showcase every little holiday themed item they owned.

“… and this year, I was thinking we could make fruitcake.” John finished, his eyes twinkling with Christmas cheer.

“Fruitcake?” Sherlock repeated.

Dreadful stuff, really. Why anyone made it, or better yet, acted as though they actually liked it, was beyond him.

“Oh, don’t say it like that. Not until you’ve tried my great-grandmother’s recipe.” John said a little pointedly, a finger in the air for emphasis.

Sherlock wasn’t convinced, but knew that if he didn’t agree and at least give the fruitcake a try, that John would be disappointed.

“So, you’ll try it?” John asked, an eyebrow raised, his voice telling him more than asking.

Sherlock gave a small nod. “Yes, all right.” He replied in veiled resignation.

“Good.” John said happily. “You’ll like it, I just know you will.”

Sherlock gave a polite smile, knowing what John would be bringing up next and not looking forward to discussing it.

“I know that in the past, you’ve never wanted Mycroft to come to the Christmas party…” John began hesitantly.

“But, seeing as how we’ve already invited Greg, we can’t exactly just ignore Mycroft, can we?”

Sherlock closed his eyes a moment.

“I don’t see why not.” Sherlock replied honestly.

John scoffed.

“Are you really that stubborn?” John asked in disbelief.

“Seriously, Sherlock, you can’t invite one half of a couple without extending an invitation to the other half. It’s not polite.”

Sherlock folded his hand comfortably in his lap.

“It isn’t as though they are joined at the hip.” Sherlock responded, an edge cropping up in his voice.

“It’s Christmas, Sherlock… Can’t you two get along for just one night out of the year?” John asked meaningfully. “Please?”

Sherlock considered this momentarily.

“No.” He answered firmly.

John swallowed, blinking a few times.

“But, as you’ve already invited him, we can hardly retract said invitation now, can we?” Sherlock asked, feeling rather annoyed.

“And, anyway, what’s the point in asking me after the fact?” He added, taking a cherry cordial from the small silver dish on the coffee table before offering one to John, who took one and popped it into his mouth.

John looked sheepish.

“Sorry.” He apologised.

And here he thought that he had finally begun to master the art of keeping a secret from the ever-knowing Sherlock Holmes.

 

 

The next day, after a breakfast of applesauce and oatmeal, they went to pick out a tree.

John had found one that he’d liked straightaway, though of course, Sherlock found flaws.

“Mmm, nope. Too bushy.” He’d complained, ignoring it and looking over another tree.

After passing up a good twenty pines, John began to grow substantially impatient.

“Are you kidding me right now?” John griped in aggravation. “There’s been absolutely nothing wrong with most of those!”

Sherlock squinted at a tall pine, which at first glance, seemed formidable.

“I want us to have the best tree on the lot, can you not appreciate that, John?” Sherlock asked indignantly. “And at these prices, the selection ought to be of much better quality than this.”

One of the lot attendants, who had heard much of Sherlock’s constant complaints, rolled his eyes.

“Right, I get that, but really, it doesn’t have to be perfect.” John reminded him. “As long as it’s not half-dead and looks like a normal sort of tree, then it’s all good.”

Sherlock looked away from the robust pine that he was currently scrutinising.

“How about you let me pick one out, before another hour slips away?” John asked teasingly.

Sherlock agreed a touch reluctantly, and John went back to the first tree that he’d taken notice of and paid for it.

 

 

After they’d gotten the tree home, and set up in the stand, John went and retrieved the big box of ornaments.

Sherlock put on some enchanting holiday music, and as they listened to the sounds of the symphony, they carefully placed the decorations on the branches.

John had caught Sherlock humming along to the tune, and smiled happily to himself.

It seemed that Sherlock actually enjoyed this part as much as John did.

As John picked out a specific bauble, he looked it over, remembering when he’d unwrapped it on Christmas morning three years ago.

It had been their first Christmas together as a couple, and Sherlock had decided to give John a little token to remember it by.

And so, he’d had a red hand-blown glass ornament made, with a silkscreen image of the both of them sharing a kiss.

The photo had been taken after Sherlock had gotten the idea for them to fool around in front of the camera, and this shot had been one of John’s absolute favourites.

“Ah, so you’ve found it.” He heard Sherlock’s voice say, a little more softly than before.

John smiled, and gave a little nod.

This simple bauble was one of his most prized possessions, and every time he unwrapped it for the holidays, he felt his eyes tear up just a little.

He wasn’t one to get overly sentimental, but this was something very, very special and he treasured it.

John reached out and gingerly hung it on the tree in the perfect spot.

There were only a few small things left to put on the branches, and after those were up, Sherlock placed the golden star on the tree and John plugged in the lights.

John grinned widely as he took in the sight of their stunning Christmas tree, making Sherlock grin right along.

The holiday cheer radiating from John really was infectious.

“Three more days.” John announced needlessly, before bringing out a few more boxes and commencing the decorating of the entire flat.

By the end of it, even Sherlock’s skull had been decorated, with a Santa hat and beard.

 

The next day, John spent most of the day making fruitcake as Sherlock helped.

It was slow work, but with the ingredients that John was using, Sherlock supposed that the mixture might just be edible.

Since John was making enough so that all of their friends would have a fruitcake each, it was quite tedious.

But, by the end of the day, it had turned out to be well worth the effort.

As Sherlock took a slice of buttered fruitcake, still slightly warm, John watched carefully.

"I just know that you're going to like it, I've yet to meet someone who doesn't." John told him with a smile.

It did smell heavenly, though that could be misleading.

Sherlock took a bite, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the fruitcake tasted marvelous.

"Well?" John prompted, impatient for Sherlock's opinion.

"It's very good, John." Sherlock answered, taking another bite. "You were right, it's delicious." 

John looked fully pleased. "Great! I knew you'd like it." He said contentedly.

Sherlock had liked the fruitcake so much, that though he usually wouldn't have eaten much, if anything, for dinner, he had three thick slices of it for his evening meal.

 

Finally, Christmas Eve arrived, and the night of the party was upon them.

So far, things were going rather well, even with Mycroft attending.

Sherlock had even had a fairly normal sort of conversation with his brother, which was really something.

Of course, it had been requested that Sherlock play his violin, which had become a bit of a tradition.

And, he played beautifully.

If it was possible, the music, which had been of his own composition, was even more lovely than the years before.

After the performance, gifts were exchanged.

Everyone, except for Sherlock, had at least a few surprises.

Naturally, he had instantly known what was inside the boxes, though this year he’d decided to keep quiet about that.

At the end of the night, everyone said their good-byes and went home happy.

John was fairly sloshed, and laughing at any little thing.

After everyone had left, and they were alone, John had thought it a perfectly wonderful idea to try and juggle some fruit from the dining room table.

Sherlock had come back from locking the door to find four pieces of fruit on the floor, and John with a bloody nose.

He took out his handkerchief, passing it to John, who managed to cover his nose.

Before long, the bleeding had stopped, and they decided to go to bed.

 

 

Sherlock awoke early the next morning, leaving behind a can of Sprite and a note underneath it instructing John to drink the entire thing to help counter the aftereffects brought on by the consumption of too much liquor, before heading quietly to the kitchen to make a hearty breakfast.

As the sausage cooked, Sherlock began squeezing oranges to make some fresh juice. Once that was done, he made some eggs and dished up two plates.

Normally, he would have passed on breakfast, but it was Christmas, and he knew that John would want him to eat.

He’d put the turkey in the oven to slow-roast the night before, seeing as John wasn’t fit to do so.

Sherlock didn’t often cook, as it didn’t interest him all that much, and so he simply didn’t bother.

When he did, however, the food was among master chef calibre.

It was only a little after six and the sunrise was beginning.

Sherlock took a moment to appreciate the rich hues, the deep purples and the luscious oranges and pinks, before setting the plates on a breakfast tray and bringing it to the bedroom.

 

 

John awoke to the delectable scent of breakfast, feeling half hungry and half nauseated.

He let out a soft groan, pulling the covers over his head.

“I did warn you not to drink so much last night.” Sherlock reminded him gently.

“Now, I’ve a little cure for your hangover as well as some breakfast. So, if you would please sit up.”

John lowered the blanket, and managed to sit up and lean against the headboard, squinting from the daylight.

“Happy Christmas.” Sherlock told him cheerily, handing him the soft drink and placing the breakfast tray between them as he sat down as well.

“Happy Christmas, Sherlock.” John smiled, though he felt awful.

 

 

Drinking the soda did, in fact, work wonders on John’s hangover, and soon after breakfast they headed to the den, still in their bedclothes.

With a little encouragement, Sherlock sat down on the floor next to John and they began to open gifts.

There were gifts from a number of people; friends, grateful clients, the odd family member.

John reminded him to be careful not to rip the wrapping paper, so that he could reuse it next year.

John had really gotten into the whole ‘reduce, reuse, recycle’ gimmick, and now did his best to do his bit for the environment and often encouraged others to do the same.

Just as Sherlock was opening a box wrapped in silver paper, with a pretty green bow on top, John told him to wait.

He quickly dashed and got the camera.

“Okay, go ahead.” He said excitedly. “I’m not so sure even you can guess what’s inside that one.”

Sherlock considered it.

The box, though it wasn’t all that large of a package, was weighty for its size.

It did not rattle at all, and it didn’t seem to be anything breakable.

This time, he really wasn’t certain.

John had done a good job.

“I would say a book, but it’s far too heavy…” Sherlock said, thinking hard.

John grinned.

“I’ve stumped you.” He said proudly. “It’s taken me five and a half years, but I’ve finally done it.”

Sherlock frowned.

“You haven’t ‘stumped’ me, I’ll get it, just give me a moment.” He denied, though it was useless.

John tilted his head to the side.

“Oh, just open it and stop your deductions.” He said lovingly. 

“When was the last time you received a gift that you didn’t know what was inside?”

Sherlock realised that it had been a good many years.

“Not since I was four.” He replied, thinking that it was kind of nice to have an actual pleasant surprise.

He took his time in removing the paper, all the while wondering what it could be.

That he didn’t know made everything different, exciting.

Once the paper was removed, he slowly took off the box top to reveal a black stone puzzle box.

“Interesting.” He said with a smile, enjoying this immensely.

John watched him closely, filming the entire thing, thrilled that his gift had been a mystery to Sherlock after all.

And on top of that, his gift was ‘interesting’.

Yes, he had most certainly done a good job this year.

Sherlock fiddled with the puzzle box, not entirely familiar with this particular variety.

Regardless, he had it opened within five minutes.

Inside, he found an item carefully wrapped in purple silk.

An item that he hadn’t expected in the least, one that held a significant amount of meaning for Sherlock.

John swallowed, hoping that he chose the right thing to give.

It was difficult to tell from Sherlock’s face what he thought of the gift.

What showed on his face was such a mixture of emotions that it was impossible to discern what sort of reaction it was.

Sherlock looked up from what he held in his hands, to John’s face.

“Thank-you, John.” He said in a soft, deep voice.

John breathed a little easier, knowing now that Sherlock appreciated the gesture.

Sherlock placed the dog tags around his neck, his sensitive fingertips running along the engraving.

“You didn’t have to…” Sherlock began, giving John the chance to take them back in case he had any second thoughts.

John’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes, I did.” He responded. “I know how much you like them, and you wear them more often than I do these days. You ought to have them.”

Sherlock blushed just a little.

He did particularly enjoy John’s tags, and they’d even become a bit of a fetish item in the bedroom.

But, besides that, because they were John’s, they mattered.

And that was the biggest reason why the tags held such appeal to Sherlock, because they were a part of John.

His ex-military doctor.

And he would always hold this gift dear.

His would pale in comparison, now…

“Ah, that’s right, I haven’t given you your present!” Sherlock said suddenly, jumping up from the floor, giving a slight sniff.

He dashed off to the extra bedroom, bringing out a large box.

Sherlock set it in front of John, who had been caught completely off guard by the burst of energy.

He noticed the box wiggle just a bit, but then thought he must have imagined it.

John gingerly tore the wrapping paper off, and opened the box.

As he looked into the package, John was absolutely thrilled with his gift.

He reached inside, taking out a small, sleepy basset hound.

John held the animal to his chest, petting it’s soft coat.

“Thank you, Sherlock, he’s adorable.” He practically cooed. 

“It is a he, isn’t it? Or is it a she?”

Sherlock confirmed that the puppy was male.

“I hadn’t said anything about a pet, what gave it away that I wanted a dog in the first place?” John asked curiously.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“It was obvious, really.” He replied with a shrug. “You are fond of dogs, and I’ve noticed you going through the classified advertisements and taking a look at the canine section.”

He set the pup in his lap.

“Mrs. Hudson isn’t going to be thrilled about this, you know.” John said, wondering if they’d even be allowed to keep it.

Sherlock wasn’t exactly one to follow the rules, and it wouldn’t be altogether surprising if he hadn’t so much as hinted at the notion to their landlady.

“All taken care of.” Sherlock said, having made the arrangement weeks previously.

“In fact, it’s Mrs. Hudson who has taken care of this little fellow for the past week.”

John raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I never would have guessed.” He admitted.

“Naturally not.” Sherlock replied a touch pompously.

John shook his head, looking back to the puppy.

“I think I’ll call him Toby.” John said.

Sherlock glanced at the dog.

“That suits him quite nicely.” Sherlock said, reaching out and petting the puppy.

John gave a small laugh.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, a little confused.

“Oh, nothing.” John replied in amusement. “Just that I gave you dog tags, and you gave me a dog.”

Sherlock chuckled.

“Happy Christmas, John.” He said, giving him a kiss.

“Happy Christmas, Sherlock.” John replied happily.

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any mistakes that I may have missed, as I have written and published this all in a haze of pain from ill health.
> 
> I really hope that you enjoyed this, I've never before attempted to write a holiday piece and thought that I really ought to give it a go!
> 
> Happy holidays, and may the new year bring many wonderful and joyous tidings to you and yours!
> 
> Thanks for reading my little story.


End file.
